I love reading. I always have. I was reading before my first day of kindergarten and, as my mother tells it, when I couldn’t read something, I’d just make up the story as I went along.
(And thus, a writer was born.)
Being a writer isn’t a huge leap from being a reader, or at least it wasn’t for me. I feel like it was the only logical progression. To create a world and characters of my own was the most rewarding thing I ever tried. For the first time I controlled the ending–happy or sad. I got to create beautiful or terrifying worlds. I got to take that journey first, as the characters dragged me along for the ride. It was magic. The closest thing you can get to actually existing inside a story.
That said, publishing is a whole other beast.
(That’s me! That’s MY name! I am so legit!!)
Publishing is hard and slow and scary in ways most people can’t imagine. You basically spend months (sometimes years) carving out pieces of your heart and soul, putting them on paper, then send them off to be cut up, brutalized, criticized, and generally mutilated by everyone from editors, to reviewers, to that nosy neighbor who begged for a copy but then decided to tell you every chance she got just how awful it was. So why do we walk that tight rope of insanity? Well, it’s kind of obvious really.
We love books.
We LOVE them. I LOVE them.
(Why yes, I AM riding a bike in that bookstore. I do what I want.)
The joy and pride we feel when someone else loves our books the way we love other people’s books, is indescribable. I remember the first time I fell in love with a book. It was My Antonia and I was probably nine. That story lived inside me long after I’d put the book back on the shelf. Even today I can remember my favorite parts and how they made me feel. I’ve fallen in love with countless other books since then. Books of all genres, sizes, and POV’s.To be able to do that for other people, wow. It reminds me of a line from Harry Potter. “…to brew fame and bottle glory…” That’s what a writer does. We are word magicians.
*Watch closely as we create stunning worlds of imagination using only caffeine and lunacy.*
(that’s about right…)
And when I survived the slings and arrows of publishing my first book, something amazing happened. People fell in love with MY book. They told me how much they loved this or that and how it touched them. Mind=Blown.
And I was hooked. Slings and arrows be damned.
So here I am, many books later (and many more to come) and I can’t imagine doing anything else. So, thank you, dear readers, for letting me do what I love more than anything: making stories for you to fall in love with.
That’s a lotta love, people.
Welcome to the war.
The Tesla Institute is a premier academy that trains young time travelers called Rifters. Created by Nicola Tesla, the Institute seeks special individuals who can help preserve the time stream against those who try to alter it.
The Hollows are a rogue band of Rifters who tear through time with little care for the consequences. Armed with their own group of lost teens–their …only desire to find Tesla and put an end to his corruption of the time stream.
Torn between them are Lex and Ember, two Rifters with no memories of their life before joining the time war.
When Lex’s girlfriend dies during a mission, the only way he can save her is to retrieve the Dox, a piece of tech which allows Rifters to re-enter their own timeline without collapsing the time stream. But the Dox is hidden deep within the Telsa Institute, which means Lex must go into the enemy camp. It’s there he meets Ember, and the past that was stolen from them both comes flooding back.
Now armed with the truth of who they are, Lex and Ember must work together to save the future before the battle for time destroys them both…again.